


The Elder Scrolls Reading Club, Week 7: Nords of Skyrim

by DanielK2312



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dark Fantasy, Diary/Journal, F/F, Fantasy, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 05:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17156168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielK2312/pseuds/DanielK2312
Summary: Hello to everyone reading this steaming pile of whateverthefuckery. So, 14 weeks ago... which is, in normal human terms, about 3 months ago, I joined a little something called TESRC - The Elder Scrolls Reading Club, which is a place where players share their playthroughs of Skyrim and discuss it either on reddit or Discord. Every week, we (specifically, our two moderators - SmoothButton and Deicide) choose a book that will be the theme of the week's optional challenges - pointers for you to do something if you're not sure where to go with your playthrough.And so, every week we write about our shenanigans (some more extensively than others, cough cough) and just have a blast.The links to the subreddit and the Discord server will be in the notes at the end of this thingamajick.Hope you enjoy!





	The Elder Scrolls Reading Club, Week 7: Nords of Skyrim

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to everyone reading this steaming pile of whateverthefuckery. So, 14 weeks ago... which is, in normal human terms, about 3 months ago, I joined a little something called TESRC - The Elder Scrolls Reading Club, which is a place where players share their playthroughs of Skyrim and discuss it either on reddit or Discord. Every week, we (specifically, our two moderators - SmoothButton and Deicide) choose a book that will be the theme of the week's optional challenges - pointers for you to do something if you're not sure where to go with your playthrough.
> 
> And so, every week we write about our shenanigans (some more extensively than others, cough cough) and just have a blast.
> 
> The links to the subreddit and the Discord server will be in the notes at the end of this thingamajick.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**_Sundas, the 28th of Hearthfire, 4E201_ **

 

I’m not sure if it is just the atmosphere or the influence of Auri-El or something, but… I feel so strangely calm now.

It’s a weird emotion to feel. Being both fired up and serene at the same time. But I suppose it shouldn’t be really surprising. It’ll be the day soon.  


* * *

 

Water splashed under the two pairs of feet, an elf and a Nord silently venturing through the damp cave. It was eerily quiet down there, even the glowing mushrooms becoming significantly less and less frequent, both of them having to rely on their eyes. Saya had even considered lighting up a torch for once, which was a habit she’d long abandoned after the last time she did so got her tied up and put onto a prisoner cart.

 

At some point, one of them noticed that not even the bats were making sounds anymore. Their quiet squeaks and rustling of wings always gave them a small sense of direction, because usually the places where the critters were absent were already explored - just the sound of their footsteps was enough to wake the animals and scare them off. This time, however, the only sound echoing through the seemingly endless dark was the quiet splashing of water.

 

The vampire, Serana, couldn’t help but wince once a clearing had appeared. Thanks to those few rays of sunlight, the last chamber of the cave was lit brightly enough to see almost every detail - or, at least, so it seemed to their eyes that had already adjusted to darkness.

 

[A shrine of marble stood in the middle of the clearing](https://i.imgur.com/fQIr7m6.png), carved carefully into an unrecognizable pattern, yet ever so faintly familiar to the elf, Saya. Atop the shrine stood a small statue resembling a star made of gold, the rays reflecting off of it like a prism.

 

And before the statue, with his back turned, knelt a mer with pure white hair, praying quietly as he muttered the well-remembered verses, etched into his mind after many centuries of reciting. As soon as he noticed the pair’s presence, however, the man turned, smiling.

 

“Welcome to the Shrine of Auri-El, travelers. My name is Knight-Paladin Gelebor, and I am one of the two uncorrupted Snow Elves remaining.”

 

* * *

 

Of course, I didn’t believe him at first. Serana’s been alive... or, well, undead, for almost as long as Nords have been in Skyrim, but she’s never seen a Snow Elf. I guess she was younger than I thought, but that’s not a bad thing. Age matters little to a being that is not affected by it.

I digress. The elf told us that his name was Gelebor, and that he was a Paladin of Auri-El, his god. He told us many things, in fact. How Auri-El was the leader of the Snow Elf pantheon, how the Snow Elves fell and became the Falmer, how the Dwarves saved and betrayed his people. It was saddening but fascinating, listening to a story of how a great civilization fell.

I almost feel bad for them. Almost.

When we inquired where to go to find Auri-El’s bow, he said that the wayshrine to Auri-El’s Temple is currently closed, so I must go through a pilgrimage all initiates go through and fill a special vessel with water from the other shrines. With a snap of his fingers, the shrine we stood next to had risen from the ground, revealing a doorway with five portals inside – each one representing a shrine of its own.

Taking some water from the basin, I stepped into the first portal.

 

What we saw was… [a cave](https://i.imgur.com/HWFtVFj.png). At first, it felt like any other, but somehow… off. It was quiet, but I felt like we were being watched. There were no torches, but the plants and mushrooms lit it as good as any lamp could. There were also weird purple… sprouts or… something. They glowed, but once I touched them they’d disappear, retracting into their stem. Kind of creepy, if I’m honest.

I am so keeping the fur of the animals, though. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’ve only found two species (I guess the rest were hiding): sabercat and deer. Their furs are so… unique. It was decorated with glowing patterns, probably to help differentiate one another in the dark caves. Sabercats have purple markings and yellow eyes, while deer have black eyes and green markings. I wonder if the color will stick around after tanning the hide.

[The first shrine](https://i.imgur.com/LpqqKKb.png) was just as Gelebor told us – it was guarded by a ghost of a Prelate that thought we were initiates, and simply nodding along was enough to make him activate the shrine and let me take more water for the vessel.

Then we left the cave and saw it. [The Vale](https://i.imgur.com/CsN2Dkl.png). It was enormous, honestly. I don’t know how it has not been discovered during all of the millennia that have passed, but it was so… natural. As if hand of man or mer have yet to touch it, and if they have – then [nature has long since reclaimed what was taken](https://i.imgur.com/RNzRAuS.png).

 

We have wandered the place for… hours, really.

 

I also remember taking a swim in a lake and it ending in a waterfall. Serana scolded me so much for not being careful. It’s… endearing. She hasn’t been talking much to me recently. I wonder if it’s something I did.

When the sun was beginning to set I took a minute to scout around to find a way to the temple, and to reach it we needed to go through a frozen cave on the other side of a lake covered with ice. [Seemed innocent enough at first](https://i.imgur.com/ThsNRKk.png).

Then the ice broke beneath my feet and [two dragons have emerged](https://i.imgur.com/c236pdC.png), their flattened, hornless heads adorned with fins and their eyes a monotonous glassy blue. Those were Revered dragons, according to the Blades’ records. Rare and powerful.

[As always, not powerful enough](https://i.imgur.com/52PVf3g.png).

 

[The glacial cave](https://i.imgur.com/fcwdREX.png) was… difficult to pass. Not just because of the falmer and the chaurus and the ice.

I… scared Serana, I think. One of the blind bastards managed to grab her and stab her though the back when I wasn’t looking. I managed to heal the wound later but…

 

It wasn’t before I turned that thing into mincemeat. ~~C _ho_ p off its ar _m_ s, legs, _sta_ b thro _ug_ h its _b_ lind _ey_ es, tu _r_ n its _br_ ain in _to_ pulp u _ntil it_ leaks _o_ ut of its cr _ac_ ked ugly sk _ull_ wi _t_ h its ja _w_ pu _lve_ rize _d_ and its rib _ca_ ge cru _sh_ ed and _it_ s lu _n_ gs _pie_ rced _a_ nd it _s_ guts _all o_ ver th _e_ fl _o_ ~~

 

I’m getting carried away. We got through the cave and to the temple.

 

The temple was quite grand, now that I think back to it. [It felt almost timeless, honestly](https://i.imgur.com/ZXnowSd.png). Sure, the stone was cracked in a few places, but other than that it was as good as new.

I poured the water out into another basin in front of the door and the vessel there as well. The liquid then flowed through some kind of aqueduct and glowed momentarily, the gates [glowing](https://i.imgur.com/UD3Ab0r.png) with the same weird light and opening.

It really makes you wonder what the cities of today would look if those techniques weren’t forgotten.

 

Now that I think about it, there’s a detail that I have neglected to mention. Gelebor promised us to help Auri-El’s bow, but not for nothing. In return, we are to kill his brother, Vyrthur, who has been corrupted by the Betrayed (which is what he called the falmer). Allegedly, Vyrthur also possessed the bow that we came here for, so it was a win-win for us either way.

Gelebor himself didn’t seem to know what kind of corruption Vyrthur was subjected to, however.

 

We did.

It was the crimson curse of vampirism.

 

* * *

 

“Ah… and here you are. Come to claim Auri-El’s bow, I imagine?”

 

[A figure clad in armor of ivory sat upon a stone throne behind a wall of thick, yet somehow crystal-clear ice](https://i.imgur.com/fTds9NJ.png). His posture was relaxed, almost bored, as he looked with mild amusement and unveiled disinterest at the two of us.

 

“I’m afraid you’ve done nothing I have not predicted. While I am glad you brought your… fetching companion to me, it also means that you have outlived your usefulness. Enjoy the last seconds of your life!”

 

He called out mockingly, snapping his fingers. At first we didn’t even really notice what happened until it already happened, only the faint cracking of ice heard all around us before all hell broke loose along with said ice, the frozen corpses of falmer storming us from all sides.

 

All while he watched with sadistic amusement in his glowing crimson eyes.

 

* * *

 

The bastard was arrogant and powerful. The combination I hate the most. Without even as much as a verbal command or even a gesture, the frozen falmer, having just broken out of their shells (no doubt created by him as well), have attacked us. They were not powerful individually - a good enough smack in a weak enough spot would shatter them like an icicle, but the power came from quantity, not quality.

 

The fact they all had blood-covered fangs that seemed way longer than what their non-frozen counterparts have was quite unnerving as well. I can only try and imagine what must’ve happened.

 

Thankfully, I didn’t have to imagine much. The bastard, having collapsed the ceiling, stormed off as soon as he ran out of mooks to send our way. Nearly damn killed me.

 

But after being cornered like the rotting skeever he is, he told everything of his own volition.

 

* * *

 

“How… how dare you. How DARE you! You witless girl, I am not just some Vyrthur! I am the Arch-Curate of Auri-El! I had the ears of a GOD!”

 

The man’s voice was full to the brim with hatred as [he held his injured arm](https://i.imgur.com/oIFDBAH.png), Serana pointing her dagger at him. Saya sighed, aggravated.

 

“Yes yes, until the Betrayed corrupted you. We heard your sad little story already. Give. Us. The bow.”

 

Strangely, the words caused Vyrthur to break out into laughter. “Gelebor and his kind are idiots. Easily fooled and just as easily exploited. Look into my eyes, Serana.” He straightened his back, taking a step towards her while maintaining eye contact. “You tell me what I am.”

 

“You’re a vampire.” she spat. Both of them have already noticed his eyes. Distracted by them, however, neither have noticed his wound knitting itself together.

 

“The moment I was infected by one of my initiates who broke into the temple, Auri-El turned his back on me.” His brows furrowed, his expression one of vengeful fury. “On that day, I swore revenge against him.”

 

Saya couldn’t help but chuckle. He wasn’t that different from her. “You want to take revenge on a god of immortal time?”

 

The Snow Elf only smirked. “I am no fool. I know that Auri-El himself is out of my reach. But his influence on this world is not.” He turned to Serana. “All I needed to fulfill my plan is his weapon, Auri-El’s Bow, and the blood of a daughter of Coldharbour.”

 

And then, it all suddenly clicked.

 

“It… it was you? YOU created the prophecy?!” Serana lowered her weapon, stepping away in shock. She was shaking visibly, her breath deep and uneven.

 

He created the prophecy. He wrote it in the Elder Scroll. He was the one who created the idea that corrupted Harkon. He was the one who ruined Serana’s family and forced Valerica to lock her daughter in a crypt for millenia.

 

The man before them was the one responsible for ruining Serana’s entire life.

 

“You were waiting… all this time… for someone with my blood to come along. You have ruined countless lives with your twisted prophecy all so you could take revenge on a god for the sake of your wounded pride.” Serana’s lip was trembling, but her fists were clenched tightly. Suddenly, she stepped towards him, [holding Vyrthur by the throat](https://i.imgur.com/lcktvP8.png).

 

“Well, too bad. I intend on keeping my blood.”

 

Vyrthur’s response was grabbing her arms with his own and breaking out of her grip before drawing his blade.

 

* * *

 

To be frank, I didn’t even notice Gelebor offering me the bow for the first few seconds. The only thing in my ears was the splashing of his blood dripping from my blade onto the stone floor.

The Paladin handed me the bow and two dozen arrows the tips of which glowed the purest white I’ve seen, second only to the sun itself.

 

It’s time.

We need to go back to Breezehome. There are preparations to be made.

 

* * *

 

**_Middas, the 1st of Frost Fall, 4E201_ **

 

* * *

 

The popping of joints resounded throughout the house, followed immediately by a pleased grunt. The bed creaked as its owner lazily got up, following up the previous pop with a dozen more while she stretched her sleepy body.

 

Cloth ruffled as the girl rummaged through her closet, humming a quiet melody she heard yesterday in a tavern as she picked out a comfortable shirt and pants to wear, sliding them on before Skyrim’s cold climate got to her. Without the hum stopping for a minute, the girl then reached for a bone comb sitting on her nightstand, brushing her hair over to her right side, leaving the other, shaved half of her scalp open to the air. Her fingers briefly tapped another pale-skinned woman’s exposed shoulder, a groan serving as a reply as the sheets ruffled and another sleepy voice with a slightly lower pitch replied: “...give me five more minutes…”

 

The giggling elf girl hopped downstairs energetically, opening a metal safe in her kitchen which had multiple shelves, the bottom and top one being filled with frost salts that kept the whole thing cold, and pulled out a cream treat and a bottle of milk, merrily eating her breakfast while her paler companion shook herself awake, groaning at the sunlight.

 

“Sorry, love. You know we can’t exactly switch schedules to fit just one person.”

 

A grunt and a short, begrudged “I know...” was the only reply that came from upstairs, the ruffling of cloth and the knocking of bones replacing the voice soon after. Smiling, Saya also decided that it was time to get ready soon and stood up from her chair, [walking back up to fetch her armor](https://i.imgur.com/nIARPx6.png).

 

Minutes later, the pair were walking out of the city of Whiterun, the guards nodding in greeting to their thane and her companion.

 

“So… remind me why we got up so early?”

 

The elf chuckled. “Because the peace talks were arranged to start exactly at noon, and knowing how cranky you are in the morning I figured that giving you some downtime to wake up would be better than having to catch you on your way down from the 7,000 steps.”

 

* * *

 

 

The past two days passed so quickly I could’ve forgotten they even happened in the first place had it not been for this for this pain in the backside of a peace talk. Since the plan we formulated earlier with Paarthurnax required us to capture a dragon using the device in Dragonsreach, I naturally needed to convince Balgruuf to lend me some of his men that knew how to use the trap. And to do that, I needed to organize a temporary truce between the Empire (or rather, its representatives in Skyrim) and the Stormcloaks so none of them decided to get particularly cheeky and try and take Whiterun with a dragon flying about.

 

Hopefully it wouldn’t come down to me chasing the lizard around the city, but you never know. Anyways, the first one on the bucket list was Tullius because, if I’m honest, I really didn’t burn with desire to meet Ulfric. The man might be fighting for a great cause, but he seems to be neglecting literally everything other than said cause, including his people. He’s a soldier, but he’s no jarl, let alone a king.

 

I don't think I'll ever forget the saddened look on Tullius' face when he realized I'm not here to sign up.

Oh, you wish, old man. You wish.

 

* * *

 

The door to castle Dour swung open, causing Tullius and Rikke to turn their heads simultaneously to the person who entered so unceremoniously into their hall. Admittedly, the person was rather remarkable-looking: clad in armor unlike anything either of them had seen before.

 

The chest piece was composed of dark scales with a barely noticeable bronze shine to them covered by what looked like a criss-cross pattern of ribs, a skirt made of large plate-shaped bones bent slightly inward covering the person’s hips, all of it connected by small lines of ebony clamps, resembling the style of Valenwood’s native Bosmer. The shoulderplates appeared to be made from the same ivory material with added claws and teeth to serve as spikes, while the hand- and footwear followed a more or less traditional nordic design, consisting of a simple fur gloves and boots covered in metallic plating, the same kind of small serrated teeth and claws covering the tibia and knuckles to give the wearer and advantage whenever they had to resort to hand-to-hand combat.

 

Lastly, the look was finished with a hood made from the same scaly leather and an ebony mask, clearly made with the style of Morrowind’s old Tribunal cultists. Rather intimidating, especially with the two piercing red eyes peeking out from the sockets.

 

“General Tullius.” the figure nodded. “A word?”

 

Provoked by the stranger’s nonchalant attitude, the man’s shock was quickly replaced with irritation as he inquired.

 

“Halt. Who are you and why are you here.” Tullius drew his sword in a motion practiced in dozens of battles, pointing at the figure’s throat. The guards soon followed, copying their leader.

 

Saya, however, only chuckled in mild amusement.

 

“Saya Indoril. The Dragonborn.” She took off her mask, twirling it around her finger. “And before you ask, no. I’m not here to enlist.”

 

She couldn’t hold back a smirk once she saw Tullius’s expression momentarily switch to one of disappointment.

 

“Why are you here, then?” The man lowered his weapons, Rikke’s stare silently commanding the mooks to follow his example. “I assume you’re here on important business, barging into our strategy room like you own it.”

 

“If I particularly wanted to, I would own it, general. I’d suggest you pick your words carefully.” The words left her mouth with the sweetest of tones, but they were cold as ice. Saya’s had some practice with manipulating people with words over the past month. This was no different. “And, to answer your question, I’m here to invite you to the peace talks organized by myself and Jarl Balgruuf.”

 

The general raised an eyebrow in surprise. He expected threats, declarations of war, mockery, a myriad of other things - but not this. She continued.

 

“You see, as you may have already noticed, there’s a slight… let’s call it a problem, regarding dragons. I assume that your troops have already encountered a few out on the field.”

 

He sighed. “Indeed they have. The attacks of those creatures have been getting increasingly frequent and troublesome. However, what’s this have to do with that nonsense about peace talks?”

 

“Simple.” The elf stepped closer to the general, her footsteps silent, like a cat’s. “I want you to arrive to High Hrothgar this Middas and negotiate with Ulfric Stormcloak for a temporary truce. The only condition is you do not bring weapons or unnecessary escort. The terms of the negotiations are not restrictive as long as you refrain from turning this into a debate of who’s right and wrong and don’t forget that your goal is to achieve a ceasefire, not to somehow prevail the other side via diplomatic machinations.” Her speech was quick and quiet, punctuating each word for just long enough to let him comprehend the meaning of the sentence but not let him retort until she finished.

 

Tullius shook his head. “Negotiating with the Stormcloaks is a hopeless cause. Those brutes are the enemy of the Empire and should all be destroye--”

 

“Or.” She cut him off, not waiting for him to finish his rambling. “I can execute you right here and now, and then do the same to Ulfric, Elisif, and your precious Emperor to buy myself the time I need without needing to go through the trouble of negotiating.”

 

The man’s eyes widened. He heard that the Dragonborn was lighthearted in character and liked an occasional dark joke or two, but the “gotcha” never came. She was serious.

 

“Let me make myself clear, general. I am not here to try and sweet-talk my way into your heart or whatever other thought you might have. I don’t give a pile of guar dung about your war at the current moment. What I care about is both sides ceasing all military advances for three days so that I have time to deal with the leader of the dragons and finish off his most loyal supporters. After that, you can continue ordering your soldiers to slaughter their brothers and sisters for all I care, but right now - the more people die, the stronger Alduin gets.”

 

Alduin… why did that name sound so familiar, the soldier wondered for a moment, but then finally found the words to inquire.

 

“Other than your ‘great cause’ and reputation in Skyrim, give me one more reason not to order my men to apprehend you here and now.”

 

“Because if you do, I will skewer them like pigs.” The reply came instantly, indifferent and unsettlingly casual. “I believe you’re not quite understanding the full picture here, old man. While most historians know Alduin as the ancient Nordic god of time, also known as The World-Eater, I assume your simple mind does not care about that. So, to put it into simpler terms…”

 

She leaned on the table, using her arm as support, and continued. “Alduin is the black-scaled dragon that destroyed Helgen, and, as it turns out, is also the one behind the dragon attacks. He is, in fact, a god. Specifically, one capable of reviving dragons that were killed before your 7th generation of ancestors were conceived as a thought in their parents’ minds. And I’ll kill him.”

 

“You… want to kill a god?”

 

“Correction: I _will_ kill a god. It’s not a matter of what I want. It’s a matter of me being sick and tired of watching him get stronger as he feeds on the souls of those that fall on your battlefields.”

 

Tullius turned away, muttering. “You do realize how impossible that sounds?”

 

“And people also said that it’s impossible for a mortal to become a god, but then the Tribunal happened. And people said that it’s impossible for Daedra worshippers to be a real threat to Nirn, and then the Oblivion Crisis happened. And people said that dragons weren’t real, and 17th of Last Seed happened.” She noted as-a-matter-of-factly.

 

“This is not a question of whether it is possible or not, Tullius. It’s a question of whether you intend to stop the end of the world or are you just gonna stand aside and watch it burn before your eyes.”

 

Heavy silence stood in the room, the old general deep in thought as considered all the possibilities. On one hand, it could be a bluff to make him impair his military potential and give Ulfric the edge on the battlefield. On the other, if this whole “end of the world” talk turned out to actually be true, then all of his efforts would be wasted…

 

“...alright. I suppose these dragon attacks have been a nuisance for long enough. I’ll go to your… peace talks.”

 

The girl smiled. “They’ll be held at the High Hrothgar monastery at noon. No unnecessary escort other than a few guards to guarantee your safety, and you must leave the weapons outside. One of the monks will be there to guard your belongings should the other side attempt to tamper with them.”

 

The man nodded, and soon his ears caught the barely noticeable sound of the woman’s footsteps heading for the door. Before she left, however, he stopped her.

 

“Wait.” She obliged, turning around curiously. “I know you’re Dragonborn, but there’s something about you that seems familiar. Do I know you?”

 

Saya smiled and answered. “I’m the unlisted prisoner you failed to execute on the day Helgen burned.”

 

With those words, the door closed.

 

* * *

 

 

Begrudgingly, the general did agree to coming to High Hrothgar. The reason why I went with him first is because while Tullius was a general, he was an imperial general - so he might not have been one to really know where to find High Hrothgar, unlike Ulfric who used to be a student there and would have no trouble finding his way up the mountain.

The trip to Windhelm itself was rather uneventful. The talk to Ulfric himself?

 

Now that’s a different story.

 

* * *

 

“My lord, you have a guest.” A young guard sprinted to the Jarl’s throne room, his voice shaking slightly from nervousness when Ulfric’s gaze met his own, the man’s brows furrowing.

 

“It better be important. Who is it?”

 

“It’s the--” the lad’s voice was cut off by the loud sound of the palace’s door creaking as a woman clad in scale and bone of dragons entered the room.

 

“It’s the Dragonborn.”

 

Ulfric’s expression darkened. While he did respect the Dragonborn and considered her as a powerful potential ally, this attitude of hers was rather… unnerving, to say the least.

 

“Welcome, Dragonborn. How may I be of assista--”

 

“Spare me the formalities. I know you’re irritated I’m here without permission, and I don’t give a damn.” Ulfric wasn’t sure if he should be angered or laughing at the lack of restraint this woman had as she continued. “I got to here from the other end of the province in a day so that I’m not behind schedule. I don’t have the time nor patience for the bravado that I’m sure your speechwriters have worked on for a long time. I’m cold, wet, and am not in the mood for rethorics after the other guy got his guards pointing blades at me not a full minute into the conversation.”

 

Ulfric’s mind eventually decided on laughing after all, his booming voice echoing through the stone hall. “Well I’ll be damned if you aren’t straightforward. Alright, let’s hear it. What do you want.” He leaned forward in his throne, listening closely.

 

Saya took off her mask, hanging it on her belt and establishing eye contact with the Jarl so there could be no confusion about her seriousness.

 

“I want you to attend the peace talks that myself, the Greybeards, and Jarl Balgruuf have organized to establish a temporary truce with the Empire.”

 

Maybe he should’ve decided on anger after all.

 

Galmar stepped forward, barking before the blonde had a chance to say anything. “What do you think of yourself, dagger-eared? You barge into this palace centuries older than you and you dare demand things of us? Let alone demand PEACE with the Empire?!” The housecarl’s arms reached for the axe behind his back, drawing the weapon and getting into a battle stance.

 

Saya snorted. “I thought you were smart enough to at least recognize I wasn’t talking to you, Stone-Fist. Y’know, last time I checked you were the lapdog around here, not the master. So be a good boy and shut your trap before I get the muzzle.”

 

That was the last drop to make the man explode with anger as he charged at her, both Saya and Ulfric smiling in mild amusement. Then, taking a step backwards, the elf narrowly dodged the swing, Galmar’s axe imbuing itself into the stone floor, at which point she did an almost mocking frontflip, axe-kicking the soldier on her way down and landing on the axe’s shaft before taking a breath and saying the three words all too familiar to Ulfric.

 

“FUS, RO DAH!”

 

And, as her voice boomed through the hallway, Galmar had the air forced out of him by her Thu’um, the sheer strength behind it sending him flying over the table, landing onto the floor right before the entrance and his momentum only ceasing when his back smashed into the pillar between the two doors.

 

Saya turned to Ulfric, her expression slightly irritated. “May we discuss the matter at hand now?”

 

The Jarl tried not to chuckle inwardly at her impressive gall, choking out a quiet “...yes, I suppose we may.”

 

With a smile, she entered the throne room, the Jarl motioning his steward to check up on Galmar before following the Dragonborn.

 

“...now, what was that about peace talks? Have the Greybeards finally decided to look down from their mountain unto their sundered motherland and came back to their senses?” Ulfric asked. She could hear the poorly-concealed bitterness in his voice. Guess they didn’t part on best of terms.

 

“Not quite. More like I asked them if I could hold the negotiations somewhere neutral where I was guaranteed to have someone strong enough to apprehend both you and Tullius if you tried anything during the negotiations.” She retorted. “The peace talks are a necessary evil, if you see a means of stopping your meat grinder of a war, albeit temporarily, an act of ‘evil’.”

 

“Any non-malevolent act towards the Empire is a generous gesture. The way I see it, peace talks are not an option until the Empire agrees to leave Skyrim alone.”

 

She chuckled. “And, by extension, let it become a sovereign country and not an Imperial province, which would also nullify the protection that the White-Gold Concordat gives to all Imperial territory, and metaphorically roll out the red carpet for Thalmor troops that are sure to openly storm Skyrim now that they’re no longer bound by their self-imposed rules? If you wanted to get yourself killed then my sword is already sharpened.”

 

Ulfric frowned. She was smarter than she looked.

 

“What do you propose, then? What is the purpose of this negotiation?”

 

Saya sat on the table, lifting the yellow flag that symbolized Whiterun off the map, twirling it in her fingers. “How much do you know about the old Nordic pantheon? Specifically, Alduin. The Dragon?”

 

His brows furrowed, thoughts mixing together as he wondered where she’s going with this.

 

“He was… the first Dragon from ancient times when man or elf have yet to exist. He was said to devour worlds whole to bring about the start of a new one, and… he was the older brother to Paarthurnax, the master of the Greybeards order, which was created to teach mortals the Voice to stop him back during the times when Skyrim was ruled by dragons with him as their leader.”

 

The words provoked a smile. The man knew his history. “That is correct. Now, did you know that Kynesgrove was attacked a few weeks back?” Still holding the yellow flag in her palm, she poked the blue flag of Kynesgrove with her finger.

 

“I am aware. Witnesses reported a black dragon circling around before he flew off into the eastern mountains.”

 

“That dragon was Alduin, and he wasn’t there to attack. He used a shout on the ancient burial site just up north of Kynesgrove to bring his dead ally back to life.”

 

The Jarl’s eyes widened in surprise. Were the matters really that bad? What did this have to do with the negotiations?

 

“And what do you need from me?”

 

She stuck the flag down onto the table again. “Dragonsreach, as you already know, has been built to capture a dragon. Numinex’s skull hanging over the throne should be proof enough of that. Oh, and I checked - it’s the real thing.” She stood up, stretching. “What I want is for both sides to cease all military advances for a few days.”

 

“And what will that achieve?” he inquired.

 

“I will be able to capture a dragon and make it tell me where Alduin fled.”

 

Ulfric raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Alduin fled from you?”

 

Despite all the clothes and armor he was wearing, the man felt a chill on his back once he saw the girl’s grin. “Like a shot deer with an arrow in its side.”

 

Suppressing the urge to shudder, he continued “...what will we need to do?”

 

“Don’t bring any weapons into the monastery, no unnecessary escort, and don’t forget that this is a negotiation and not an opportunity to exercise your speechcraft.” She said. “Both sides are going to try and come to conditions that are satisfactory for you to arrange a truce lasting long enough for me to capture a dragon and find a way to Sovngarde to kill Alduin and his most devout followers.”

 

Ulfric’s eyes looked at her in slight disbelief. “You’re… going to Sovngarde?”

 

“I am. According to the Alduin himself, that is his place of residence and also where he devours the souls of the people you and Tullius send to their deaths in your war.” she remarked bitterly. “I’ll be interrogating the dragon I capture to find a way to get in there without having to… you know. Die.”

 

“Would you even go to Sovngarde if you died? I was under the impression elves don’t exactly share afterlives with Nords.” He spat, half-mockingly. The reply came in the same tone.

 

“Well, I _am_ half-nord, if you are curious. My father is from Markarth.” She couldn’t help but laugh internally when she saw the jarl stiffen. “Ulfric, dear, I’m a hundred and thirteen years old. You weren’t even a thought back when he was still alive. Regardless…”

 

The girl stepped over to the Jarl, putting a hand on her hip and looking him in the eye. “Will you be coming?”

 

The man nodded. “When?”

 

“Tomorrow at noon. It’ll be in the High Hrothgar debate hall, you know the place.” Saya headed for the exit before the Jarl called her over, stopping her in her tracks.

 

“You were at Helgen, weren’t you?” The man asked, towering over her as he stood behind her back.

 

She sighed. “Indeed, I was. Didn’t expect to see me again, did you.” Saya turned around, looking at him. “...actually, while I’m still here, I have a question.” Ulfric nodded, waiting for her to ask. “Did… Ralof survive?”

 

Ulfric’s expression darkened. “I’m afraid he has not. Those who got back said he helped everyone get to the keep so they could escape but the tower collapsed on him before he could get out himself.”

 

The two stood in silence. “...I’ll visit Gerdur and let her know.” The Dunmer sighed and turned, leaving the strategy room, and then - the palace itself.

 

Ulfric could swear her heard a clang as if someone punched Galmar in the helmet right before she left the building.

  
  
  
  


First impressions are important during negotiations, right? I'd wager walking around dressed in the bones of beasts that burn down towns would make for a pretty nice one.

I'm writing this part during the peace talks. Dear lord, those s’wits could not be any more uninteresting if they actively tried to be. Demands, demands, demands. I'm glad that Serana was there to poke my shoulder and remind me those are PEACE talks, otherwise I'm pretty sure I'd shout the bastards off the mountain then and there for demanding anything from me.

By desire to not let the Thalmor just waltz in and take over is greater than my desire to make the assholes stop talking, though. Thankfully.

 

* * *

 

“Traitor.”

 

“Milk drinker.”

 

With those words serving as greetings, Saya couldn’t help but groan. _This is gonna go fucking splendidly._

 

Ulfric was already sitting at the table, having arrived here much quicker than the imperial general. [Saya has been waiting](https://i.imgur.com/4ueZGpb.png) for both of them, Serana sitting next to her and reading a history book as per her companion’s advice to slowly catch up on the events that had transpired while she was in the crypt.

 

“Dragonborn.” Tullius nodded in greeting, the elf returning the gesture as he sat down at his spot. She also stood up to greet Elisif and Rikke, who were both expected. The complications started when an Altmer who was not summoned has entered the room.

 

“Are you serious?” Ulfric stood up, Saya’s exasperated sigh barely heard due to how loudly he slammed his fists on the table. “Are you insulting us by bringing her to this negotiation? Your chief Talos hunter?”

 

Elenwen herself.

 

_And here I thought this couldn’t get any worse… fool me once._

 

“I have every right to be present at this negotiation to ensure that none of the terms violate the White-Gold Concordat, Ulfric. You’re not one to have say in this matter.”

 

A few muttered comments didn’t do anything to improve Saya’s opinion on this situation. She got up as well.

 

“Greetings to you too, First Emissary. Now, Tullius?” She turned to the man, her eyes glinting. “Care to explain why she is here? The Thalmor is not an Imperial organization. I believe I specifically asked not to bring any unnecessary escort.”

 

Elisif turned her eyes away, a worried and slightly ashamed expression on her face - obviously, she had no say in the matter. Tullius, on the other hand, retorted: “She’s part of the Imperial delegation, Dragonborn. I swear that she will not interfere with the negotiation--”

 

“ _Wuld._ ” A whisper left her lips, and in but a split second, the Dragonborn was crouching on the table, her face mere inches away from Tullius’s.

 

“I believe I have made myself clear on the terms of this negotiation, general. This is an interaction between three factions specifically. Me, the Empire, and the Stormcloaks. She will leave. _Now._ ”

 

Elisif yelped in surprise at the sudden display of Thu’um, Arngeir shaking his head while Delphine smirked approvingly. Ulfric seemed to be quite pleased with himself, Galmar’s expression quite smug as well.

 

Sighing, the Imperial turned to the First Emissary. Before he could even begin talking, though, she interrupted him.

 

“Very well. I suppose if you wish for it so much, I will take my leave. The Thalmor will deal with whatever ruler will control Skyrim, we have no interest in this petty war.” She turned around, huffing. “Enjoy your petty victory, Ulfric. While you can.”

 

With a pleased smile beneath her mask, the dunmer girl hopped off the table and back into her seat.

 

“Now that’s settled… may we begin?”

 

* * *

 

The peace talks couldn’t even start out smoothly. Apparently Tullius decided it was okay to bring Thalmor to the table, despite me repeatedly mentioning that I don’t want anyone unneeded present at the negotiations.

Well, it didn’t take much to make her leave, at least. And I don’t think she recognized me beneath my mask, either. My voice’s gotten a bit raspy, so maybe that played a role in it.

In any case, negotiating was not very interesting. It was, as I feared, mostly a debate of “I will take your territory as a demand for peace” and the other side giving counter-demands to “Balance out your ridiculous requests”.

[I am so glad they were over as soon as they did](https://i.imgur.com/7Bo2XUb.png). And, thankfully, nobody questioned me bringing the Blades and Balgruuf to the peace talks.

 

* * *

 

“Now that’s settled… Dragonborn, the city of Whiterun will be ready to put your plan into action. Give us one word and we will spring the trap.” Balgruuf proclaimed, earning an interesting look from Tullius.

 

“Dragonsreach, then… if I may ask, Dragonborn, how exactly do you plan to lure the dragon there? You haven’t overlooked that little detail, have you?”

 

Saya only smiled, shaking her head. Once Elenwen had left, the Dragonborn had taken off her mask to reduce tension ever so slightly during the conversation.

 

“I have thought about it, and I have already asked for help with that task. Esbern, if you would?” She gestured over to the elder Nord sitting across the table.

 

“Ah, yes. I believe I might be able to help with that.” The man rummaged through his knapsack, pulling out a small journal and opening it. “You see, in my research of dragons there was a peculiar detail I have noticed. Dragon names have almost always followed a pattern which I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but when rummaging through the old Blades records in Sky Haven Temple I have discovered a catalogue of sorts, listing all dragons that have been killed and buried by our predecessors.”  


Saya nodded along. “If you have ever seen a green dragon up in the skies covered in ectoplasm - that one was mine. I have summoned it using a shout a few times to help me in battle.”

 

“Indeed. And, as it turns out, one of the killed dragons was a lieutenant of Alduin’s. His name was recorded here both in human and dragon language, so I cross-referenced it with Delphine’s map of dragon revivals and it seems he is most likely alive at this point in time. Dragonborn, have you encountered a dragon with red scales and black eyes with no visible pupils?”

 

The half-elf shook her head. “I have not. The only ones close to it would be the two Revered ones I stumbled upon the other day, but they were orange and had blue eyes, although they didn’t have pupils as well.”

 

Esbern nodded. “In that case, he is still alive and may be of use for you. Please, come look at the name. I assume you require direct contact to absorb the knowledge needed to use a shout.”

 

She nodded, standing up and stepping over to Esbern’s book, her eyes scurrying through the names and descriptions to find the one he talked about.

 

“Voslaarum, Naaslaarum… Vuljotnaak… Vulthuryol… Mirmulnir…” As she scurried through, she marked the names she recognized with a cross to signify that the dragon was permanently killed by her. A few minutes later, she finally found the name she needed.

 

“There it is. Odahviing?” Esbern nodded.

 

“Alright, then… if everyone would please stay quiet for just a second.”

 

She traced her fingers along the name, finding the dovahzul scripture right next to it, putting her hand on each word at a time as streaks of light began to flow towards her from the book, knowledge of the book intertwining with her own.

 

 ** _Od_** \- the blizzards that the dragons dwell in, the white wall to block one's vision. The perfect setup for an ambush.

 ** _Ah_** \- the hunter, hiding in the snow, lying in wait of the target he's already marked. Watching. And then...

 ** _Viing_** \- the deafening flap of wings when the creature lands, its jaws opening before you are devoured whole.

“Odahviing. ‘Snow-winged hunter’.”

 

With the words of power now etched in her mind, Saya thanked Esbern and called Serana over. The latter seemed thankful they were finally leaving, if anything, having read the Greybeards’ history books multiple times over while the debates were ongoing earlier.

 

“Jarl Balgruuf, I will be waiting for you back at Dragonsreach. I’d like to be done with this by the end of the day. To everyone else - have a nice evening.”

 

* * *

 

The plan worked flawlessly.

Odahviing didn't make us wait for him for longer than just a minute or so, announcing his arrival by dropping onto some poor guard and ripping him into pieces with his claws before throwing him away mid-air. What was it about first impressions?

[Dragonrend](https://i.imgur.com/GQNDjaW.png) got him even quicker than Alduin. I would be disappointed if it didn't, to be honest. After that it was just a matter of pretending to run away from him, luring him further into the balcony before giving the signal. Then, the trap sprung and his neck was locked, the heavy mechanism pulling him down and not letting him stand straight, his wings splattered awkwardly down on the ground.

[The sly bastard knew a thing or two about negotiation too](https://i.imgur.com/DeAz9dr.png), though. He told me everything I wanted, but right up until the last moment he withheld one small detail - Alduin's portal to Sovngarde was located in the ancient ruins by the name of Skuldafn, and they could not be reached by any means other than flight.

I needed to set him free if I were to get to Alduin. [And so, I did just that](https://i.imgur.com/5wIypyr.png). I'm gonna win. I'm sure of it.

 

Serana's good luck hug isn't going to waste tonight.

 

* * *

 

["Zu'u nis bo nau daar, Dovahkiin. Mindoraan?"](https://i.imgur.com/nAxqC10.png) _I_ _cannot take you farther, understand?_

 

“Geh, Odahviing. Fen hi saraan fah zu’u?” _Yes, Odahviing. Will you wait for me?_

 

“Ni fah hi, nuz fah Dovah wo daal. Hin Thu’um los mul, nuz ful los Alduin. Zu'u fen frolok fah hin daal uv ok. Krif voth ahkrin. Fen hi kron, Zu'u fen kos kah wah aam hi.” _Not for you, but for whoever (the Dragon who) returns. Your Thu’um is strong, but so is Alduin. I will look for your return or his. Fight with courage. Will you prevail, I will be prideful to serve you_

 

Saya smiled at the dragon’s response and watched him fly off into the mountains. They were finally at Skuldafn - the ruins of the dragon cult’s former glory. Her steps echoed off the cold stones and the mountains around her as the woman looked around curiously.

 

And, after passing the second stone arc, she saw two pairs of eyes looking at her with predatory intent. She couldn’t help but mock them a little.

 

“Ah, where are my manners. Drem yol lok, pruzah Dovah. Dreh hi mindok faal golt do miiraak wah Sovngarde?” _Salutations, good Dragons. Do you know the location of the portal to Sovngarde?_

 

The two dragons responded only with a roar. Saya smiled and unsheathed her blade.

 

* * *

 

Other than the dragons, the draugr proved to be more trouble than I expected. While I did expect some occasional frostbite or, perhaps, a shout or two, I did not expect them to use actual tactics. Seven of them were beneath, some of them wielding bows while the frontliners rushed at me with shields and axes. The commanders, meanwhile, shouted at me from upstairs, damn near pushing me off the mountain a few times.

Way too close for comfort.

But then again, I once learned something quite valuable that is carrying me through to this day - if you want to know your weaknesses, watch how your enemy will exploit them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“FUS, RO DAH!” A growl was released from the undead general’s throat, fracturing the winds themselves and subjugating them, his voice dictating nature itself where to direct its force.

 

Saya barely managed to bring up her hand in time to conjure up another lesser magic ward, her hand shaking in pain from the backlash when said ward inevitably shattered under the pressure. She’d figured out how to stop the shouts a little while ago, her potions of magicka finally becoming useful as she gulped them down whenever she had a breather due to how much of it her wards ate up.

 

 _I fucking knew I should’ve practiced Restoration more._ She cursed mentally, using her Voice to dash between the two axe-wielding draugr, putting her hand on the ground to slow herself down, dashing at one of them and kicking the creature in the chest, pushing it off the edge and down the mountains to its death. Mere tenths of seconds later, sounds of metal clashing against bone stung her ears when she parried the second one’s strike, ducking and winding her blade up under her left arm, then sweeping it across the undead soldier’s legs to knock it down. Then, she stood up, grabbing its dominant arm and shouting with Unrelenting Force, ripping off the appendage and sending the rest of the body flying to follow the other axeman.

 

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was getting a little tired. The draugr seemed to be flowing from almost everywhere - some hiding in coffins, some behind doors, some sitting in thrones overlooking lower floors of the temple. The only thing she’s yet to see is one crawling out of a chest.

 

_Ugh. Why did I think that._

 

She groaned audibly. Guess now she’d be checking every damn chest for monsters. As if she didn’t have enough odd habits as is. She’d probably never forget the absolutely priceless mix of deadpan and disappointment on Serana’s face when Saya told her she counts the stones in the road whenever she’s traveling.

 

Her train of thought was interrupted, however, when she heard multiple coffins snap open after she came out to an odd clearing. Draugr swarmed from all directions, archers ready to pour storms of arrows onto her.

 

That’s when it dawned onto her that she cannot dodge them all.

 

But she could protect herself.

 

“DUR - NEH - VIIR!”

 

Her voice boomed and she ducked, purple flames engulfing the ground around her, bones materializing and covering themselves with scale and muscle, two pairs of green wings covering her from the arrows before flapping open, pushing away all the attacking draugr with a roar.

 

“Thuri, Qahnaarin. Zu'u mindoraan dii grah los nu paar.” _My lord, the Vanquisher. I see you require my assistance._

 

“Thank you, friend.” She stood up, taking a deep breath to calm herself down, her eyes darting around, counting all the threats she could see in front of her.

 

Eight. Around the same amount behind her, so sixteen or eighteen total.

 

“Can I leave this to you?”

 

“Geh. Do what you must.” The dragon nodded, and with that, the word for “Wind” echoed off the mountainsides once more, the girl dashing past the undead horde and into the temple in front of her, only the suppressed roars reaching her ears from behind the door once she was inside.

 

* * *

 

Skuldafn was quite obviously a bit of a cradle of the dragon cult, considering how large it was. The indoors temple was almost as impressive as the area outside which could almost be considered a small city as far as I am concerned. Maybe it was, who knows.

It was like a labyrinth, navigating these old corridors. Draugr at every corner as always, but I could even find an occasional spot to rest.

I’m writing this as I set up a quick campfire near a word wall. It says “Strun”, so… “Storm”. I remember Arngeir telling me about this shout. It’s supposed to create a thunderstorm with bolts of lightning raining down from the sky, but I’m not sure how powerful it’ll be with just one word.

 

On top of that, now that I think about it, he never told me if the lightning would strike ME, either.

 

Well, in any case, I think I don’t have much more to cover. This next stretch should get me to the Sovngarde portal, hopefully without any unnecessary injury.

Gods damn the stew is good, though.

 

* * *

 

 

A large pillar of light served as Saya’s destination marker while she ascended the final staircase. After an hour of rest, she eventually left the interior temple, her last sprint turning very quickly into a steady stride, then into a calm walk when she realized there were next to no draugr about.

 

That could mean two different things - either all of them had some means of communication, were alerted to her presence, set out to rush her and she already killed them all… or this was an area where no “peasants” were allowed, where the REALLY dangerous people are buried.

 

As she noticed the two dragons staring her down from a pair of large pillars positioned on either side of the portal.

 

“Drem Yol Lok, fronne.” _Greetings, kinsmen -_  She smirked as she said that, giggling once she saw one of the dragons growl. It was always funny seeing someone grimace in anger when they couldn’t do anything to you. Or were too afraid to.

 

Or weren’t allowed to yet, as was the case here.

 

“Hi los nid fron do un, joor. Orin hi, Dovahkriid.” _You are no kinsman of ours, mortal. Even you, dragonkiller._

 

A raspy undead voice responded to her snark, said voice belonging to a lich-like creature floating in front of the portal. It wore a large torn cloak and what looked like ceremonial armor, resembling the carvings on the temple’s walls very much. It seemed to imitate dragon scales in appearance and function, protecting its wearer.

 

Lastly, the thing wore an old-looking carved mask from an unknown material which was practically pulsing with magic.

 

“Hi los nid dovah, diil."  _You’re no dragon either, undead._  "Have you grown so arrogant in your loyalty to Alduin that you cast away the tongue of your forefathers?”

 

“The flesh is weak, Dovahkiin. But the soul is immortal. Those of us who did not oppose the Dragons were not hunted, and those of us who chose to join them as servants were respected. Can’t you see?” The lich-creature took hold of a metallic scepter, gripping it with its dried, rotted fingers and ripping it out from the pedestal. The portal closed.

“Eternal life. An army at my command. That is the reward I have gotten for my servitude.”

 

He raised his staff, pointing it at Saya.

 

“Zu’u Nahkriin, ahrk zu'u lost kosaan alok nol dinok naal dii in. Nuz hi? Hi fen mah wah fin krasnovaar zu’u lost ni.” _I_ _am Nahkriin, and I have been risen from death by my master. But you? You will fall to the disease of death I have not._

 

[The two dragons roared, their great wings flapping loudly in unison](https://i.imgur.com/9NI5ica.png). The elf hastily put on her mask, taking a deep breath.

 

“JOOR, ZAH FRUL!” Her voice boomed, the blue wave of energy latching onto the dragon to her left, bringing it down from the skies and forcing it to land on one of the lower levels, not enough space up there for him AND the other dragon.

 

Saya grabbed her cloak with her left hand, drawing her sword with her right and tilting her whole body forward, breaking into a sprint. Nahkriin’s staff began to glow and spark with energy before he pointed it to the ground, releasing the energy to cover the ground in a layer of lighting runes. Right after, the thing lifted its free hand, a fireball forming in the palm.

 

“FUS!” And just as quickly, the fire dissipated, the dragon priest recoiling from the force before dashing away, allowing the Frost dragon to fly over his head in a line, its Frost Breath amplified by the snow storm as it no longer just created a stream of frost, but also turned the snowflakes into a volley of hail.

 

Saya cursed mentally, her throat not quite ready for another shout yet, so she pulled the cloak over herself and charged straight through the stream of cold, the enchantment considerably lessening the damage. Then, with her momentum keeping her going, she jumped over the runes, her blade swishing through the air as she brought it down upon the dragon priest.

 

Instead of the wet sound of cut flesh, however, she only heard a metallic clang as Nahkriin tilted his staff, blocking the bone sword and reaching behind his back. Saya winced as he stabbed her arm with his dagger, letting go of her blade and catching it with her other hand, stabbing it into the thing’s elbow and twisting, causing the creature to let go of his dagger.

 

“Motherf… I’ll kill you. I’m so going to kill you!” She spat, jumping back and tearing out the dagger, now holding weapons in both of her hands. A roar got her attention and she turned around, seeing the Frost Dragon return for a second stream, so she shouted at it, the blue flames engulfing it and bringing it down.

 

The dragon’s roar turned into a shriek as she stabbed both blades into its eyes, hopping onto its head to avoid its breath. Then, tearing out the dagger, she grabbed it by the blade and threw it at Nahkriin, the blade sinking into his shoulder pad, and then she put her fingers into the bleeding socket, her palm channeling Sparks into its blood stream. The beast thrashed in a frenzy, Nahkriin being knocked back as the hail it breathed began to freeze his joints up to the point where he could barely move.

 

Eventually, the dragon collapsed, lifeless and burning up while Saya tore out her sword, the other creature finally getting over the effects of Dragonrend.

 

“Hi fen ofaal faaz fah tol, rek-Deyra!” _You will receive pain (pay) for that, she-Daedra!_   - growled Nahkriin, his staff charging up momentarily before he released a lighting bolt, hitting Saya straight in the chest and earning a strained cry, her body shaking and spasming, causing her to fall off the dragon.

 

_Damn it, damn it, damn it, where are my potions, damn it…!_

 

Hastily, she pulled out a vial from a pouch on her belt, ripping out the cork with her teeth and gulping it down, the pain swiftly subsiding. She stood up, her legs shaking and her gauntlet dripping with blood.

 

“You’re… heh… you’re really a piece of work, aren’tcha?” She muttered, trying to collect herself. Her mind was racing, coming up with and discarding dozens of plans as she stared blankly on the skull, the soul of the dragon absorbing into her own.

 

Then it clicked.

 

There was another thing she has yet to try.

 

Grinning, she slumped and ran at Nakhriin yet again, the dragon above her roaring as it chased her. The girl had mere split seconds to time this right, so she made sure to control her breathing, getting ready.

 

She looked up, holding her sword in an odd position in her hand. Nahkriin was confused as to what her plan was, but rushed to stop her once he realized it - she stopped, throwing the blade into the air like a spear, the bone edge piercing the dragon’s scales and knocking it out of the sky, bleeding and gasping for a breath it could not take.

 

And then, she jumped over him, tearing off a piece of her cloak as soon as she landed and using it as a garrote, holding the undead in place. Finally, she took a breath and shouted.

 

“STRUN!”

 

Her body felt like it was spazzing and shaking, her veins absolutely on fire when the lighting bolt struck from the sky right into her body, but then instantly channeled across the metal on her armor and onto the metallic “scales” covering the dragon priest’s torso, trapping him in a burning cage.

 

A few seconds later when the last of his spasms had stopped, she let go of the cloak piece, letting the creature drop and crush into ashes as soon as it hit the ground. Saya herself soon followed, sitting down and huffing, exhausted as she rummaged through knapsack for a potion of healing, gulping it down like her life depended on it.

 

In reality, though, the lightning called by her own voice didn’t do much harm - the potion acted mostly as an anesthetic for her previous injuries, helping dull the pain from the staff’s electric bolt and the pierced wrist and mending the wounds slowly but surely.

 

She’d pick up the staff and mask to activate the portal a few minutes later, but for now - a much needed moment of respite finally came.

 

* * *

 

I secured the portal. The bastards protecting it were tougher than I thought, damn near broke an arm. I’m almost kinda sad I can’t keep this staff, it being a key to Sovngarde and all that stuff.

In any case though, I guess there isn’t much else to do. The entirety of Skuldafn seemed to be clear of all hostiles, so it’s off to Sovngarde for me.

Hopefully I don’t die when I step into that light though. It looks pretty… [fiery.](https://i.imgur.com/PpAMh2r.png)

 

* * *

 

[In the realm of night eternal, where no living has set foot before, hills were covered in a dark mist](https://i.imgur.com/kHQlbmC.png). A shadow swept over the hills, roaring - Alduin, the World-Eater, had found the next soul to curb his insatiable hunger for power.

 

Saya sat on the stairs at the beginning of the valley, looking up into the skies. The stars were ever-present on the unending midnight of Shor’s realm. The three figures, omnipotent, fought out their endless battle in the heavens - the three constellations. The Warrior, wielding his battleaxe and growling at the Thief, whose face was concealed by his hood and cloak, his dagger sharp and ready to cut. And the Mage, who gazed upon the other two, an uncaring observer.

 

Sighing, the girl stood up. As the mist crept up closer to her, she shouted towards the Clear Skies, and the mist obeyed. She would not be prey to the worm yet.

 

“Turn back, traveler, terror awaits within the mist!”

 

The half-elf looked up from the stone pathway, seeing a warrior clad in blue before herself. A Stormcloak-- no, a mere shade of one. Drained of life and hope, his spark of life waning.

 

“What is this mist, shade?”

 

“I do not know - but none have passed through. Alduin, the insatiable glutton, hunts the lost souls he ensnared within this cursed mist. Lost and blinded, they wander, seeking the Hall of Valor - and all of them give up, for the mist seems so endless, leading them in circles for eternity. And when all hope is lost - the worm himself comes, and devours what is left of you.”

 

The girl stayed silent, thinking. “What… what is this ‘Hall of Valor’ you speak of?”

 

“Do you not know? The Hall of Valor, Shor’s Hall for warriors valiant, mages strong, and fighters agile. I saw it when first my visions led me here from the blood-soaked ground, when the arrow of fate, by an Imperial archer sent, has brought me to this sacred place. On the other side it is, behind the cursed mist of the World-Eater. Hurry! Before it devours you as well!”

 

She nodded, thanking the lost soul. “Follow me, shade. You may have a chance yet.” With her Voice, she shouted the mist away once again, opening the narrow path.

 

Without another word, the Stormcloak traced her steps, her breath blowing away the mist every time the worm attempted to set his traps again. As they wandered together, Saya saw a hill climbed it, a view of the Whalebone Bridge presented before her eyes.

 

“On the other side of the Bridge - that is the Hall of Valor we seek--”

 

The man’s voice then suddenly was snuffed out, and when the Dunmer turned around she saw the black claws of the World-Eater grab the Stormcloak and throw him skywards before the soul landed into his jaw. Alduin then glared at her, cackling, and flew away to find another victim.

 

* * *

 

I saw Alduin hunt just now. Devoured a soul right before my eyes. To think… To think that this is how dozens, no, hundreds, THOUSANDS of people have perished, not free from suffering even in the afterlife - it aggravates me.

He’s arrogant. He’s stubborn. He thinks he’s all powerful because this is his domain, that because this is his [world wall](https://i.imgur.com/pTkJJTl.png) I stand beside that he cannot be defeated.

He isn’t afraid, just like he was with the other three. Uncaring, if not amused.

 

I’ll need to change that.

 

* * *

 

"What brings you, wayfarer grim, to wander here, in Sovngarde, souls-end, Shor's gift to the honored dead?"

 

The booming voice echoed throughout the ethereal landscape, a pair of crimson eyes turning to look at the owner - a towering man dressed in ornate armor, a battleaxe behind his back and a metal belt fitted firmly on his waist.

 

"I pursuit the world-eating worm who calls himself Alduin. Who are you?" A quiet, but confident voice replied, earning a smirk from the man.

 

"A fateful errand, indeed. No few chafed to face the worm since first he set his soul-snare here at Sovngarde's threshold. But Shor restrained our wrathful onslaught - perhaps, your doom he foresaw." Metal clanged against stone, heavy footsteps echoing in the girl's ears while the Et’Ada stepped forward.

 

"I am Tsun, shield-thane to Shor and guard of the Bridge built of Whalebone, for my liege bade me protect it. Here, I await for the doom-driven warriors whose valiant end sent them here, where Shor's Hall of Valor awaits those I judge fit to join the fellowship of honor."

 

Silence persisted for a mere few moments, the child of divine blood thinking before facing the god of trials eye to eye and speaking.

 

"I seek entrance to the Hall of Valor."

 

The judge's eyes gazed coldly at the woman before him. Not man nor mer, a girl of mixed bloods stood before him. And there was no alien light to her like all else possessed, for she was no spirit. She was alive.

 

"No shade are you, as usually here passes, but living flesh, daring to enter the land of the dead. By what right do you demand entry?"

 

The girl smiled.

 

"By right of birth, arbiter. I am Dragonborn."

 

Tsun returned the smile.

 

"Ah, truly. It has been far too long since last I've faced a doom-driven hero of dragon blood. But living or dead, mortal or divine, it is of no matter to me. By decree of Shor, none may pass this bridge until I judge them worthy by the warrior's test."

 

Thus, the arbiter of souls reached behind his back, and the dragon soul to be judged lowered her palm to her waist, and Alduin's roars echoed the hiss of steel and bone as the blades left their scabbards.

 

"Fight well." Said the elf.

 

"Or die well." Replied the god.

 

* * *

 

 

Tsun, the Nordic god of trials himself, was the guard to the [Whalebone Bridge ](https://i.imgur.com/bbjBUZX.png)that led me to the Hall of Valor. It was a grand palace more so than it was a Hall, with heroes that I could vaguely recognize from descriptions in books and scriptures drinking, laughing, and speaking to one another. But more than anything, they were waiting.

Waiting for me.

Reader, would you believe me if I said that [Ysgramor himself](https://i.imgur.com/tFc905r.png) greeted me when I entered the Hall of Valor? He towered over me, but his voice was calm and welcoming. It almost felt as if he was no hero of legend, but merely a friend. It... gave me confidence, honestly.

And to my right, the faces that were engraved into my memory after reading the scroll have awaited me: Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, Hakon One-Eye, and Felldir the Old. With but one greeting and command from me, we ventured out of the grand palace.

It was nigh time to slay the worm.

 

* * *

 

 

"LOK, VAH KOOR!"

 

[Four voices thundered across Sovngarde](https://i.imgur.com/gkwvygP.png), the breath of their owners becoming fierce winds, washing away the pale mist-snares that led souls of Nords astray, into the depths of the World-Eater's trap, and from thereon - into his bottomless gut.

 

"VEN, MUL, RIIK!"

 

The worm had responded, his roar echoing the landscape for the third time in a row, faint shouts of men and women trapped in the valley echoing faintly before being silenced by the snare, their desire to go on draining along with their very lives.

 

Alduin was a coward, but he was no fool. He knew his mist would become weaker as time passed, that he couldn't keep summoning it and expect it to be as effective as the first time. But he knew how to play the last cards in a losing hand.

 

"LOK!" His snares, weakened, but working. They still drained the life of the souls within.

 

"VAH!" They faded, but the surge of strength never did. He was still devouring his weakened prey.

 

"KOOR!"

 

And as the last weak soul has finally given up, the worm soared again, his voice shaking the everlasting skies, fire raining from the heavens at his command as he bent the nature of even the afterlife itself to his will. For he was Al-Du-In.

 

[And no filthy mortal would be forgiven the arrogance of invading his domain and thwarting his plans](https://i.imgur.com/U2Gwops.png).

 

* * *

 

 

Alduin was even more intimidating than I remembered. Odahviing told me that it was here that all of his strength was accumulated, so I had expected him to be a bit larger, but... he was not. Instead, his scales were even darker than before, almost invisible on the background of the eternal night sky of Sovngarde, if it was not for the life of mortals he devoured seeping through his scales in a blood-red shine. Each and every single scale was accentuated, and his eyes were two blinding orbs of malicious intent, shining like a pair of scarlet stars.

It took all four of us shouting at him at once to bring him down this time, and he came down with a crash. [He roared like an enraged devil and he fought like a desperate predator](https://i.imgur.com/Q5yASob.png).

In the end, he died like a cornered rat.

 

* * *

 

 

Surrounded and crippled, the dragon's roars turned into shrieks as he desperately spat flames and gales in an attempt to push away the warriors. His eyes glinted with fear.

 

And Saya was enjoying every moment of it.

 

With a battlecry, she charged the worm for the last time, winding up the blade behind her back and bringing it down with a sharp brief whistling sound as the bone sliced through the air and cut into his muzzle. Alduin's pained growls made her grin devilishly as she cut open his nostril, jumping on top of his head and holding her blade with both hands, stabbing it into the wound vertically - and the exposed flesh gave way easily with no scales to protect it.

 

"Daar los fin oblaan, lir. Hin oblaan." _This is the end, vermin. Your end. -_  She whispered. Alduin tried reaching her with his wings, but to no avail - Gormlaith and Felldir have both pinned them to the ground by the joints. He then suddenly shrieked, his head flailing about in agony as a wet cracking sound was heard - Hakon, too, did his part, because the Worm's tail was already melting away into a black ooze, savagely hacked off of his spine.

 

"Hi lost nid golt wah ru. Hi lost nid Dovah wah vokrii hi. Hi lost nid nuz fin luv do wo hi kriivah." _You have nowhere to flee. You have no Dragon to help you. You have nothing but the cries of ones you murdered._

The half-elf hissed, each sentence punctuated with a stab of the blade, as the pure white dragonbone blade clanked against the black of Alduin's skull, cracking it again and again and again.

 

"Hi fen dir voth nid brod."

 

 _You will die alone -_  that is what she had said.

 

And for the last time in his his existence, Alduin had felt the true, paralyzing, debilitating fear of death.

 

"You devoured your victims. Slowly. Agonizingly. Sadistically." His red eyes, now dim and waning, had met her own. He felt like he was looking into the eyes of death itself. Who would've known that but a measly month ago, she thought the exact same thing about him.

 

"That is how you will perish, as well." The blade was torn out of his skull, flesh and blood splattering disgustingly. Alduin felt his breath get weaker as he could only watch.

 

And then, almost as if teasingly, she slid the blade slowly across his head, scratching his scales. The blade was glowing crimson. And it seemed to be growing brighter and brighter the more she moved it.

 

An enchantment that drained life force, he realized. The glow beneath his scales became dimmer and dimmer. His eyelids felt heavy. His vision was blurry. He was cold.

 

And then, he suddenly rose, roaring and throwing off all four of the warriors, his wings tearing and one of his horns breaking off against Saya's blade as he wailed.

 

["NIID! ZU'U UNSLAAD! ZU'U NIS OBLAAN!"](https://i.imgur.com/isuEBnL.png)

 

His scales began to fall off, his entire form oozing with the blackness that his tail turned into earlier, his entire silhouette becoming almost unrecognizable as he began melting, the streaks of light oh so familiar to Saya rising from his form.

 

"...his soul. It's not going to me."

 

["BORMAH! AAK ZU’U!"](https://i.imgur.com/PrlCyWH.png)  _Father! Help me!_  - the worm begged as his wings rotted and slid off from his bones, leaving only the dark skeleton wrapped in pure white energy that was being sapped rapidly, flying off into the heavens.

 

"LOST HI VODEIN ZU’U?! BORMAH?!" _Have you forsaken me?! Father?!_  - he cried, falling on the ground and writhing in agony as his skeleton has almost lost its ethereal cloak completely.

And then, helpless, he turned to the skies for the last time, his voice weak and powerless. It was not a cry anymore. It was not a command. It was not even a prayer. It was simply a single statement.

 

"Niid... zu'u fen ni… zu'u nis...!"

_No... I will not... I cannot...!_

 

And as those words left the World-Eater's throat, he went dead silent, and his bones burst into flaming shards.

 

* * *

 

He died. I... could barely believe my eyes, but it couldn't have been anything else. I know that this is why I came here - to kill him - but it still just felt so... surreal.

I killed a god. Heh. I'd wager if I tell that to someone they'd probably call the guard and say there's a drug dealer in town. Tsun himself came up to thank me, and... not gonna lie, I felt pretty good about myself. Hearing the heroes cheer "All hail the Dragonborn" gave my self-confidence quite a boost!

And then, with a shout I've never heard before, I was sent away. Back to the Throat of the World.

 

* * *

 

A blizzard raged in the lands of Keizaal. The gales howled, the music of Nirn singing the song of celebration, for the world could rest at peace, knowing the Devourer was gone.

 

“Alduin mahlaan.”

 

_Alduin has fallen._

 

[Saya had looked around, standing at the peak of the Snow Tower, surrounded by dragons](https://i.imgur.com/l390Byb.png). Her enemies. Her prey. Her kind.

 

“Sahrot thur qahnaar. Alduin mahlaan.”

 

_The mighty overlord is vanquished. Alduin has fallen._

 

Their voices thundered in an echo heard across all of Skyrim, if not all of Tamriel. The choir had announced the fallen champion, the leader who has been defeated by one of his kind.

 

“Thu’umii los nahlot. Alduin mahlaan.”

 

_His shout has been silenced. Alduin has fallen._

 

This time, her voice joined them. She shouted with the dragons, into the snowy skies. Her surroundings were ice and snow, but in her soul there was a fire. A fire that has burnt the darkness away.

 

“Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid. Alduin mahlaan.”

 

_The Dragonborn is his dragonslayer. Alduin has fallen._

 

“Mul los vomir!”

 

_We follow him no more!_

 

“Alduin mahlaan!”

 

_Alduin has fallen!_

 

One by one, their wings were raised and flapped, all the dragons rising into the skies and shouting their chant across all heavens above.

 

But two of them stayed. One, with scales of faded ivory, the new eldest who came second after the one who had existed forever. The other, with scales of blood red, who has been first to join the dragonslayer on her quest and to defy his leader.

 

“So, it is done. Alduin dilon. The eldest is no more. He, who came before all others and has always been.”

 

She stepped towards Paarthurnax, snow crunching under her feet.

 

“I did what must be done. His bottomless pride was his downfall.”

 

“Geh. Indeed, his doom was written when in his pahlok, his arrogance, he claimed for himself the lordship of our bormahu - our father, Akatosh. But I will not celebrate his fall. He was a brother to me, once.” He rose to the skies, facing the mer. “But I will not mourn, either. Without Alduin’s lordship, many of dovahhe, of our kind, shall be tempted to return to their ways of wilderness, seeking dominance over the joorre.”

 

“They may yet accept a new lord.”

 

“Geh, and so they may yet bow to the righteousness of my Thu’um. Willing or not, they shall hear it. Farewell, Dovahkiin!”

 

With those words, the eldest had joined his brothers, their shouts razing the skies with winds of their lungs. [The red dragon, however, only shook his head](https://i.imgur.com/zSKPzLu.png).

 

“Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein." -  _Fair travels to the Old One. -_ "I wish the old one luck in his... quest. But I doubt many will wish to exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax's ‘Way of the Voice’.” Odahviing remarked, earning a smile from Saya. She took off her mask.

 

“You had waited, as promised.”

 

“A Dovah does not go back on his word. You had defeated Alduin, and so, I acknowledge the power your Voice as the greatest. Twice over you have proven your mastery.” He bowed. “Thuri, Dovahkiin. I gladly bow to you as my lord. Zu’u Odahviing. Call my name, and if I can, I shall come to you.”

 

“Kogaan, fahdon.”  _Thank you, friend_ - she replied, putting her forehead against his snout, and then let go - and with that, he soared as well, flying off into the sunrise.

 

And the Dovahkiin remained, silent and alone, atop the Snow Tower. And, her eyes closed, she rested, meditating.

 

For the entire night she was thinking, pondering on what to do now that her quest has been completed. And when the dawn broke and the skies burned with its flames of magic, she rose, and her Thu’um ringed throughout all of Keizaal.

 

“Fah ul hi qiilaan wah Alduin, ok suleyk pruzaan, ok zul voth nid grahmindol, ok thur ni krif ko.”

 

_For eternity, you have bowed to Alduin, his power unmatched, his voice without trickery, his lordship not fought over._

 

“Nu, ok zul lost nahlot. Ahrk Zu'u zaan wah hi, aar do dov.”

 

_Now, his voice was silenced. And I call to you, slaves of dragonkind._

 

“Zu'u zaan wah hi, nust wo voov dii suleyk! Zu'u zaan wah hi, aar wo qiilaan wah dilon rah! Zu'u zaan wah hi, wah daar wo grah zu’u!”

 

_I call to you, those who do not trust (doubt) my power! I call to you, servants (fanatics) who bow to a dead god! I call to you, to those who battle (oppose) me!_

 

“Ko fin grolt do Keizaal kolos vulom mah wah kun do Krein, zu'u fent saraan. Bo, fen hi grah zu’u! Qiilaan, fen hi mindok zu’u! Dir, fen hi voov zu’u!”

 

_In the location of Skyrim where darkness falls to the light of Magnus, I shall be waiting. Come, if you challenge me! Bow, if you acknowledge me! Die, if you do not trust me!_

 

“Zu'u los Dov-Ah-Kiin, daan miiraad dovahkriid, joor kogaan voth hin sos naal un Bormah, rek wo lost kiin wah kriin ek zeymah!”

 

_I am Dov-Ah-Kiin, the doom-driven dragonhunter, a mortal blessed with your blood by our Father, she who was born to slay her kin!_

 

“Bo, ahrk Zu'u fent nahlot hin Zul voth dii.”  


_Come, and I shall silence your Voice with mine._

 

* * *

 

**_Turdas, the 2nd of Frost Fall, 4E201_ **

 

Tonight I slept so well I almost didn’t want to wake up.

When I came home, Serana was there, sitting next to the door on the chair. She was waiting for me, but sleepiness overpowered her. I carried her to our room and, for the first time in the past few days, I went to sleep because I wanted to, because I could - not because not sleeping would mean passing out from exhaustion.

 

It was… refreshing. Being the second one to wake up, for once.

Serana seemed happy, as well. I told her all about what I’ve gone through, and she ended up scolding me for being so careless and getting wounded and ambushed so many times.

I never thought that being yelled at by someone could be so… I don’t know, what’s the word. Heartwarming? Reassuring?

 

Then again, we didn’t really have time for laughs.

Before Harkon could track us down, we needed to mobilize the Dawnguard and clear out Volkihar Castle.

 

I’m… now that I think about it, I just feel so self-centered. I kept thinking that the reason she wouldn’t talk to me was because I scared her or something. But it’s… so obvious in hindsight.

A bad one or not, she’d have to kill her father today. A lot of the people at the Castle could be friends or acquaintances, too. It must be very difficult to get into that kind of mindset.

Although, I guess that, in a way, I did kill my brother yesterday… Ah, sod it. Thinking of stuff like this won’t get me anywhere.

 

I asked Serana to wait me at home. If any of the beasts had a backbone, I’d wager some of the bastards would try and take me on today when I’m in the Rift.

She shouldn’t be put into danger because of me. Not any more than she’s already endured.

 

* * *

 

“YOL, TOR SHUUL!”

 

The walls of Riften shook from the dragon roars nearby. Saya was frustrated - her right arm was underperforming a bit since Skuldafn, an occasional jolt of pain drawing a pained gasp from her.

 

Her declaration has not gone unnoticed - when she arrived to the Rift, eight dragons have been waiting for her and attacked without warning. The two Revered dragons’ jaws were narrowly dodged when they jumped out of Lake Honrich. Then, from the autumn forest, appeared three Elder Dragons, breathing fire and burning down the trees to get to her. From up north, a Frost Dragon flew, a Blood Dragon following him close by.

 

Lastly, from the Velothi mountains, a loud roar shook the snowy peaks, darkening the skies with Alduin’s shout as fireballs rained down from the heavens, an Ancient dragon finishing the list as the eighth ambusher.

 

Surrounded by the scaled beasts, Saya couldn’t help but chuckle.

 

“I gotta admit, I’m flattered I got this many of you to get off yer backsides and try to do me in.” She mused, earning a few malicious grins from the dragons.

 

“Your arrogance will cost you dearly, joor.” the Ancient said, gnawing his teeth.

 

The Dunmer sighed, the word “Wuld” leaving her lips unnoticed up until the point where she was suddenly in front of the dragon, punching him in his grinning mouth with her left hand and stabbing her blade into his eye.

 

“You know, I’m getting really fucking tired of being called that.” She then gripped the tooth, tearing it out and stabbing it into the other eye.

 

The beast shrieked, trying to throw her off. The Elders were the first to retaliate, the words for Fire Breath leaving their mouths in a fiery blast. Grinning, Saya gripped the dragon’s lower jaw and forced it open, the flames burning the insides of his throat and leaving her mostly unharmed.

 

_One down._

 

“OD - AH - VIING!”

 

The shout thundered, the silhouette of a crimson-scaled dragon flying through the skies bringing a smile to the Dragonborn’s face.

 

“TAKE THE WHITE AND GREEN ONES, I’LL TAKE CARE OF THE REST!” She shouted, ripping out her weapons from the Ancient Dragon’s skull, jumping from him and in front of the ancients.

 

“As you command, Dovahkiin.” The red dragon replied, swooping in and sinking his teeth into the Blood Dragon’s neck, ripping out his throat before shouting flames at the Frost Dragon, the beast shrieking and flapping its wings in panic, taking off.

 

“JOOR, ZAH FRUL!” The girl shouted at the one on the center, sheathing her sword and stabbing the tooth in the nostril of the beast to her right, then kicking said tooth to force it into its skull. Right after, Saya drew her crossbow and shot the dragon on the left in its throat.

 

“DUR - NEH - VIIR!” she followed up, purple flames engulfing the ground in front of the three crippled dragons, her own undead dragon forming and biting into the neck of the flightless dragon, ripping him into pieces.

 

“Thuri, Qahnaarin. Even in the depths of Soul Cairn, I have heard your voice. Allow me to assist.” He roared, and his voice has raised undead black as night from the earth, the creatures swarming the two dragons who were still alive, rending their flesh.

 

Saya hopped onto Durnehviir’s back, running all the way to his head and holding his horns. The dragon, taking the hint, flew into the skies. Odahviing was there, fighting off the Frost Dragon as the two Revered circled around him.

 

“The red one is Odahviing, he’s an ally. We’ll help him. I’ll take care of the right one - fly as high as you can and then nosedive.” She put the crossbow behind her back and prepared herself, holding Durnehviir’s horns tightly as he rose above the clouds.

 

Then, she jumped off, facing the sky. She took a deep breath and shouted.

 

“FUS, RO DAH!”

 

The force of her breath pushed her faster, the speed of her descent quickly increasing as she turned around, beginning to spin. The revered dragon only got the chance to look up into the sky before its head got chopped clean off, slowing the rotation of Saya’s body. Smirking in satisfaction, she put her hands and legs out, diving from the sky.

 

Then, she caught Durnehviir by the horns yet again as he flew right past her, mounting him yet again right as the corpse of her target hit the ground.

 

“Krif los ni ol prodah!” The Frost Dragon shrieked, fearful and fleeing. The other Revered nodded, following him.

 

Odahviing, grinning, turned to the Dragonborn who was sitting on top of Durnehviir’s neck, engulfed in the light of souls that were drained from the dragon corpses.

 

“Shall I chase them, thuri?”

 

She smiled, but shook her head. “Appreciate the enthusiasm, but no. Two scared dragons make for good messengers. If they have any allies, they’ll think twice before attacking us again.”

 

“Geh. Impressive as always.” The undead dragon nodded. Saya turned to look at him.  


“Your horns are softening. Is it time already?”

 

Durnehviir nodded, sighing. “I am afraid so. It was an honor to fight alongside you, Qahnaarin.”

 

She pat his forehead gently a few times, beckoning Odahviing and carefully jumping over onto him before her undead ally disappeared.

 

“Odahviing, love?”

 

“Yes, Dovahkiin?” The red dragon looked up, curious.

 

“Would you mind dropping me off near the fort inside Dayspring Canyon? My legs are killing me right now.” She complained, earning a chuckle from the dovah, who obediently flew east.

 

* * *

 

The declaration from yesterday gathered some attention, it seems. A few of the hold guards commented on hearing someone’s voice from the Throat of the World, recognizing it vaguely as female.

And then there was the whole dragon ambush thing. Poor saps. I can tell they were trying to make an example of me if they managed to kill me. Didn’t even underestimate me, too, considering how many of them there were trying to kill me at once.

They hesitated too much, though. Couldn’t handle too many surprises. None of them knew the Disarm shout too, that would’ve proven to be problematic.

 

Anyways, after thanking Odahviing for the ride, I went straight to Isran. He called everyone to the main hall, and so we began the talk.

 

* * *

 

“For too long have we allowed the vampires to poison the night and slaughter us like cattle! Now, we finally have the means to strike back! Now, we finally have Auri-El’s Bow!”

 

Everyone cheered as Isran spoke and Saya pulled out the bow from under her cloak, its radiant energy lighting up the room even brighter.

 

“The gods themselves gave us their favor, and now we must answer with action. The time has come to put an end to Harkon and his unholy prophecy! We will storm their castle and slaughter these wretched abominations like the animals they are!”

 

Shouts and cries rang through the fort, but Saya was the only one who was silent. Her mind instead wandered to Serana.

 

They… wouldn’t kill her, too, would they? Just because she was a vampire?

 

“This is our fate!”

 

She risked so much. She went through so much just to help them all.

 

“This is our fight!”

 

She suffered so much at the hands of the man who called himself her father.

 

“This is the time…”

 

So if they dared to disregard all of her sacrifices, dared to attack her… no, dared to even touch a hair on her head…

 

“...of the Dawnguard!”

 

...then she’d slaughter them just like the Volkihar.

 

* * *

 

**_Fredas, the 3rd of Frost Fall, 4E201_ **

 

When everyone gathered outside of Castle Volkihar, I couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. I was used to working alone or with a single person, not with an army.

 

Largely because of my shouts. Too much collateral damage. Too many unnecessary injuries.

I can’t control my voice as well as a dragon or a Greybeard. I can only change its power, and even then my allies are far from safe from my Thu’um.

 

When everyone charged on through, only me and Serana stayed behind. We’d run in after most of the mooks have been taken care of, according to plan. And that we did.

I could see her physically struggle not to look at the mutilated corpses of both Dawnguard and her former allies.

 

* * *

 

As the pair stood in front of a large metal door, Saya pulled off one of her gloves and reached for her spare dagger, taking a deep breath.

 

“You sure you want to do this?” Serana sounded hesitant, but the girl beside her only nodded quietly.

 

“This might be easy, this might be difficult. I have experience fighting dragons, bandits, mages, assassins, vampires, but… not whatever… thing, that Harkon made himself into. N-no offense.” She stammered awkwardly, remembering that Serana is also a pureblood vampire who could probably transform.

 

“Point is… this bow. I have already tried using it. Those bright arrows aren’t just for show. They explode. And they explode with what I can only describe as a fireball that looks like a small sun. If my Dunmer blood is worth anything… I hope it’ll at least help you not get harmed by these explosions as much.”

 

With that said, she pressed the dagger lightly across her wrist, drawing blood and offering her arm to Serana.

 

“Here. I know you don’t feed often. Just… no biting, please.” She shuddered, remembering the last time she got attacked by a hungry vampire.

 

“I… thank you.” Serana muttered and pressed her lips against the wrist, drinking the crimson liquid. Her skin became noticeably less pale, and her eyes became ever so slightly dimmer, their fiery glow becoming a soft ember shine. A few seconds later, the girl wiped her lips, gulping down whatever was left. “Thanks. I needed that.”

 

Saya only smiled and focused, her body glowing lightly as Restoration magic mended her wounds. When she was done, the girl put her glove back on and pushed the door, opening it.

 

Harkon was there, waiting near a shrine with a small pool of blood under a menacing skull - a shrine to Molag Bal. His body was already that of a vampire lord, his wings twitching as he drank from the basin.

 

Clicking his lips, he spoke.

 

“Serana, my dear. I see you still favor to keeping a pet.” A low voice chuckled grimly, Harkon’s mantle shaking slightly along with his body.

 

“You know why we’re here, fa… no. Harkon.” Serana’s voice was cold and stern. He turned around, laughing in amusement.

 

“You disappoint me, child. You have taken everything I have given to you and threw it away for this… pathetic being. Ungrateful as ever, even to the person who provided you with everything.”

 

“PROVIDED ME?! You… you destroyed our family! You killed other vampires! You threw away our peaceful lives, all over some prophecy written by a maniac that you barely even understand!” Serana yelled, furious. Her hands were shaking, the Snow Elf armor that Saya made for her clicking against itself as she trembled from anger. “...no. I am DONE with you.”

 

[Harkon rose into the air](https://i.imgur.com/8ZCHVL0.png), floating closer to Serana and raising his hand. Before he could even say a single word, the Dunmer by her side had already drawn her blade, pressing it against his neck.

 

“You. Will not. Touch her.”

 

The vampire backed away, laughing.

 

“I see this dragon has fangs. Your voice is dripping with her mother’s hatred towards me. You’ve spoken to her, haven’t you.” His brows furrowed, his expression more menacing than before. “That… witch stole everything from me. My daughter. My scroll. Everything I have worked up to for the past centuries of my life, all gone in a single night.”

 

He turned to Serana, his black eyes staring at her with hatred. He didn’t even look at her like a person. Just as a projection of Valerica. An object to hate in her stead.

 

“Valerica was a valuable tool and became a treacherous fiend. How alike you have become.”

 

Saya opened her mouth to retort, but Serana drew her dagger faster. She pointed the blade made from the horn of a dragon at Harkon, mimicking Saya’s gesture.

 

“No. I’m not like her.” She clutched the dagger tighter. “Because I am not scared of you. I will not run away like she did. Not anymore.”

 

Harkon sighed, landing and stepping away from the pair. He then turned his malformed head towards the Dragonborn, a malicious smile on his face.

 

“It appears I have you to thank for turning my daughter against me. Don’t think I am surprised. I knew she’d return eventually with hatred in her still heart.”

 

“You have only yourself to blame. Her hatred was born long before I was. I only helped her build up the courage to let it loose.” She spat. “You are the architect of your own demise. It was born from your neglect and your indifference.”

 

“The emotions of a single vampire are a small price to pay for the good of the entirety of our kind.”

 

The grip around her sword tightened.

 

“...a single vampire, huh. Just a single vampire? Is that what your own daughter is in your eyes?” She growled. “You’re a disgrace to Nords, to vampires, and to all living things that walk this earth!”

 

Harkon drew closer, as if daring her to stab him.

 

“Spare me the notions of morality. We both know that you’re just a vampire hunter, using her to get to your goal. Just like Valerica used her, just like I intended to use her, and just like she used you.”

 

His mockery didn’t go unnoticed as Saya extended her arm just a little, her blade drawing blood from his neck.

 

“I would never use her like that. Because I care about her, unlike her pitiful sperm donor of a father. And if she did truly intend to use me, I’d be happy to let her if it meant that you’d be gone from her life.”

 

Serana looked at her companion, lost for words. But the Dunmer’s eyes were determined. She was not lying for a single moment.

 

Harkon sensed it too.

 

“...then it appears my daughter is truly lost, having let a mortal into her life.”

 

Saya swung her blade, glaring at him as the man turned into a swarm of bats, flying to the shrine to dodge her.

 

“Enough of this.” the girl spat.

 

“I concur.” Harkon growled.

 

* * *

 

Even in this form, he was a despicable thing that used minions to do his bidding. From the piles of bone in the corners of the room, he raised skeletons. From the statues, he created gargoyles.

 

And worst of all, he felt… untouchable.

That is the kind of person I hate the most.

 

* * *

 

The vampiric abomination shrieked as Serana caught him materializing, stabbing him in the back once the bats came together. Her dagger, which she enchanted herself, had two effects.

 

One was fire. Harkon’s veins felt like they were burning as the magic inside the dagger invaded his body.

 

His muscles refused to move. Despite not needing to, he even struggled to breathe. Then, he saw Saya draw an arrow, Auri-El’s bow in her hand.

 

The other effect was paralysis.

 

Sadly, however, it was not strong enough.

 

Harkon roared as he turned around, grabbing Serana by the throat and draining her before throwing her at her friend, flying up to the Shrine and putting up a shield of magic, the blood from the pool draining into his body.

 

“I am the strongest vampire in existence, you foolish girl! Did you really believe that your little dagger could harm me?!”

 

The Dragonborn had no choice but to drop the bow, catching Serana instead. Worried, she moved away her hair, checking if her eyes were still open.

 

“I’m… I’m alright… s-shoot him… please…” She got up, clutching her dagger and standing beside Saya.

 

“...alright.”

 

Taking the bow into her hands, Saya took a deep breath. Time seemed to flow slower. Her eyes darted around, looking at his form. Bone, muscle, and ornaments.

 

Her dragon instincts screamed. They screamed for her to go for the neck.

 

[The arrow whistled through the air, Harkon smirking in his arrogance](https://i.imgur.com/hRVCWaW.png). Then, he suddenly tasted blood, as the arrow passed through the shield, unhindered, and pierced his throat.

 

He fell, and Saya dashed towards him, grabbing him by the thoat and pinning him to the ground, standing on one knee.

 

“...you… can’t…!” He wheezed, his windpipe crushed and struggling to breathe, let alone talk.

 

She didn’t bother responding. Instead, she let out her breath.

 

“Yol.”

 

_And her breath was fire._

 

He squirmed and screamed as the air left her lungs, turning into an inferno that burned away at his flesh, turning his skin to ash and blackening his bones.

 

“No… Serana… y-your own… father…!”

 

Saya shouted again, furious. Even now, he dared to call himself her father.

 

So, with her voice, she silenced him forever.

 

* * *

 

It took her a few moments to collect herself when she finally got up from the floor. [Harkon’s body burned away into a pile of red ash](https://i.imgur.com/fw3VXtM.png).

 

Saya heard the light steps belonging to her companion as she took off her mask and hood, looking at her with a wry smile.

 

“It’s… it’s done.” The pale vampire said. Saya closed her eyes and nodded, coming closer.

 

“Yes. It is.”

 

Her arms wrapped around the girl tightly in a warm hug. At first, Serana was completely lost. Eventually, her arms hesitantly found their way around the Dunmer’s torso as well, hugging back sheepishly.

 

“What… will you do now?”

 

“I don’t know, love. There’s still the entirety of Skyrim to explore, hundreds of people to help, dozens of dragons to kill… and then there’s the whole cultist thing…”

 

Serana chuckled, backing away with a sad expression. “Busy as ever, huh…”

 

“Mhm… and what about you? What will you be doing?”

 

She smiled wryly. “I don’t really know either. Living alone in the castle just seems… pitiful, to be honest. I’ll probably let out the thralls. The poor people deserve a second chance at a normal life.” She paused, thinking. “Then… maybe stay with the Dawnguard, if they’d let me. They’re not bad people, and I think they can see the benefits of having a vampire fight with them instead of against them… you know what I mean?”

 

Saya giggled. “Yeah. To fight an enemy you must know them first.” She sighed, sitting down on the stairs, the vampire girl doing the same.

 

“Tired?” Serana asked.

 

“Oh, so damn tired. I’d kill for a nap right about now.” The elf stretched, laughing with her companion. “But… there’s still so much to do. So many plans, so many adventures…”

 

Silence hanged in the air for a few seconds before Saya felt a familiar coldness of Serana’s hand in her own. Hesitantly, she asked.

 

“...would those adventures… happen to involve me?”

 

Smiling, Saya looked her companion in the eye. Now that she was not hungry, she looked so much more… alive.

 

She saw now that her skin was not snow-white, but the same pinkish color as all other young Nord girls. She saw now that her cheeks were rosy, perhaps showing that she was flustered. She saw now that her lips were not dry and drained, but full and cherry-colored.

 

And she also saw that her eyes were not an otherworldy orange, burning with predatory malice, but a peaceful, beautiful blue of the sea, reflecting the morning sky.

 

“I was thinking you’d never ask.” She whispered and pulled her by the collar.

 

Thankfully, Isran had the tact to not open the door.  


* * *

 

**_Loredas, the 4th of Frost Fall, 4E201_ **

 

* * *

 

Darkness.

 

Darkness all around me.

 

It’s turning, twisting, flowing, morphing. Ever-changing is the infinite darkness coiling around me.

 

And it’s staring. With a billion of curious orbs, it blinks. From close and far, it stalks me.

 

It’s cold. There is a pressure on every nerve of my body, as if I’m at the bottom of a sea. But I’m still breathing.

 

I see small scraps of paper in the darkness. They flow, spin, tear, reform into paragraphs. Paragraphs turn into pages.

 

The pages float around me, and they come together.

 

I see a book with a cover made of stitched skin.

 

“Bring him the blood.” The darkness says. “And every bit of this darkness will turn into pages of your knowledge.”

 

I nod and pick up the book.

 

I scream when I realize the cover was made from my face.

 

* * *

 

I had a nightmare tonight. Serana’s touch calmed me down, but I was still sweating buckets.

Gods, I hate daedric princes. They’re… they’re powerful, okay, I know. They’re strong, they’re smart, they’re almost omniscient, but gods damnit would they just keep out of my head?

 

I… I guess he did remind me, though. I still need to give back this extractor to Septimus. All blood should be in there already, thanks to the abundance of bandits. I apologized to Serana, telling her I need to do something and that I’ll hopefully be back by evening.

I really hope I’ll be back by evening.

 

* * *

 

“Give it to me!” The old man shouted, grabbing the extractor from Saya’s hands. “Ah… yes… the echoes, they sing to me… I can feel their life energy.”

 

The Dunmer shook her head, sighing. The scholar was still as insane as ever. Almost as if a switch was flicked, he suddenly calmed down, looking at her.

 

“Come. I shall make the mixture.” he beckoned.

 

“What do you…” Saya began before she paused in shock and Septimus plunged the extractor into his chest, draining the blood from the reservoirs.

 

“What did you just…?” She was about to ask, walking up to the madman who simply disregarded her. He stepped towards the box, touching it with his hand and the parts began clicking, as if feeling the unheard echoes. Spinning and spinning, the circles arranged themselves.

 

And the lockbox opened. And Septimus ran in, Saya following him silently.

 

“What…? What… what is this? It’s… just a book?” Confused, the man exclaimed, grabbing the object in his hands. He looked completely dumbfounded, looking at the cover and babbling in confusion. Saya couldn’t force out a word, on the contrary.

 

She recognized the book. The book made of skin. But it wasn’t hers, this time. It was of all colors and textures. Skins of all races.

 

“I… I can see.” He muttered, flipping the pages. “I can… I can see it all. The world.”

 

She went to grab his shoulder to snap him out of it, but her hand only passed through his body, which was phasing into the non-material.

 

“Septimus? What is going on?”

 

“The world beyond… it’s burns into my mind... “

 

He began floating and his eyes shone with an otherworldly glow. The book fell out of his hands, closing itself as it landed. She stepped back, afraid he’d explode or… something worse, but…

 

“...it’s marvelous…”

 

And with that, Septimus just… disappeared. Vaporized. Turned into nothingness.

 

Like… he wasn’t even there.

 

Saya hesitantly reached out, picking up the book into her hands. She felt an alien coldness on her skin. The same as in the dream.

 

“ **Come, my champion.** ” A voice echoed, infinitely far away, but so close it might be right inside her head at the same time. She turned around, walking up the stairs to leave the box.

 

A writhing mass of eyes and tendrils. Amorphous blackness, draining and reflecting all light. A riddle unsolvable. A book unreadable. A question unanswerable.

 

“Hermaeus Mora.”

 

“ **Now, you have my Oghma Infinium. Revel in your wisdom unobtained, for it contains secrets of the ages before man, mer, daedra or aedra. All of which I revealed to Xarxes, my most loyal servant.** ”

 

Confused, she stared at the book. It felt almost… unreal. Weightless. Colorless. Like it wasn’t there. Just like… who was it again?

 

“ **Its secrets have aged finely during the hundreds of years it was shut away from the world. Truly, Septimus was a useful tool for unleashing it. And now, it is in your hands.** ”

 

Saya looked up, Hermaeus’ eye mere inches away from her face. His pupil was split down the middle, like a cell multiplying. It was amorphous, just like the rest of his body - rotating and floating inside the eye, changing shapes every millisecond, but it was fixated on her, staring.

 

“What… must I do with it?”

 

“ **Read, my champion. Open the book and let its knowledge seep into your mind through your prying eyes. Remember what is forgotten, know what is unknown, and let your mind cast aside the shackles it put on itself. Let yourself collapse and reconstruct, for that mindless chaos of ideas is how the world came to be.** ”

 

Saya looked at the book, clutching it in her hands. She felt like she heard… whispers. Beckoning so sweetly. Words of wisdom and insanity filling her ears. She shook her head.

 

“...and what will I do with that knowledge?”

 

“ **Knowledge is a means to an end. The end is acquisition of more knowledge. The purpose is creation of new knowledge. The security is in archivation of old knowledge. But the greatest of libraries shall become disorganized with more than a single librarian. You are not yet the only champion of mine.** ”

 

Her eyes widened slightly. Suddenly, she felt quite… threatened. “You… have another champion?”

 

“ **Indeed. One older than you, one stronger than you, one more knowledgeable than you. One who devours souls of dragons and bends their minds to his will. Seek out my Black Books, scattered throughout Solstheim. Pursue the cult which wears my masks but obeys him, and not me. Kill him, and I shall reward you with all the knowledge you could ever imagine.** ”

 

_One who devours dragons… Then, wouldn’t that mean…?_

 

“He… is Dragonborn? Like me?”

 

“ **You didn’t think you were the only one, did you?** ” He almost laughed, drawing closer.

 

“ **Indeed. His name is Miraak. The first Dragonborn.** ”

 

With those words, the abyss disappeared, giving way to reality again. Saya found herself in the glacial cave again, as if waking up from a deep dream.

 

Quietly, she kneeled and put away the book into her backpack, not a whisper coming from it, unlike before.

 

_Miraak was the apprentice of Hermaeus Mora… and he’s Dragonborn._

 

_That’s the person who sent those cultists after me._

 

Sliding the backpack on her shoulders, Saya sighed, summoning Arvak as soon as she was outside. She’d have to get back quick to Serana not to get scolded again.

 

Although she might understand if Saya would explain where she was. After all, this outpost is quite far away from Whiterun.

 

_Right… outpost. But… whose outpost was it again?_

 

_...ah, couldn’t have been anyone important._

 

* * *

 

When I came back to Whiterun, one of the guards told me that I had visitors who came by earlier. “Wearing some kind of weird masks”, he said.

I don’t remember running this fast in my life. When I stormed into the house, Serana was there, a bloodied dagger in her hand and with three masked corpses on the floor.

I explained all that I could to her and she told me she’d be back soon. She did hold to that statement, as she came back a few minutes later in full gear and with a backpack full of essentials.

She asked me where we’re going.

I replied--

 

* * *

 

“Solstheim? ‘fraid you’re out of luck, I’m not taking passengers there anymore.” The captain replied dryly, turning around and wandering off.

 

Saya wasn’t in the mood.

 

“No. You _are_ taking me to Solstheim.” She stomped, grabbing him by his shoulder. He glared at her, scowling.

 

“Listen, girl. You don’t know what happened here, and I don’t know what happened either, but I am NOT going to that wretched place again after--”

 

“After a bunch of cultists boarded your ship and made you bring them here?” Serana finished, raising an eyebrow and earning an expression of shock from the captain. He stammered, sighing.

 

“How… h-how did you know?”

 

Serana walked up to Saya and reached into her backpack, taking out a mask belonging to one of the cultists. She continued. “Three dunmer who wore these masks have come to our house today and tried to kill me. We want to figure out why they’re here and find out who sent them. Which is why you _will_ take us to Solstheim, seeing as how it is partially your fault they got here in the first place.”

 

“I… alright.” He replied defeatedly. “Name’s Gjalund. Get down to the lower decks, I’ll tell the crew we’re taking off. I suppose we still have supplies to deliver there that are long overdue…”

 

Saya nodded, putting the mask away and nodding to Serana, the pair stepping down into the lower decks, leaving the frustrated Nord alone.

 

* * *

 

Never thought I’m seasick. As it turns out, I am. Nearly vomited two times during the few hours of our trip… eugh, disgusting. Next time, I’m asking Odahviing for a lift whenever I need to make this damn journey.

 

Raven Rock honestly made me nostalgic. House Redoran was all over the place in Morrowind after the whole Red Mountain business happened, helping everyone rebuild. Of course, a few folks were opposed to their rise to power, wanting to claim that seat for themselves. Those were often pursued though, so soon enough things were calm.

 

Hopefully, this place was calm as well. Me and Serana went to the local inn, named rather funnily - “The Retching Netch”. The owner, a rather pleasant fella named Geldis Sadri, told me that it was because he once saw a drunk patron throw a bottle of sujamma at a netch which made it drunk. A few seconds later, it vomited.

 

I can only imagine the stink, ew.

 

Well, thankfully they didn’t have ridiculously-priced rooms, so after paying another 20 gold to the guy we rented a room to rest at. In fact, Serana just called me over to bed. Shouldn’t keep her waiting.

 

I should really sleep more often.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to discord - https://discord.gg/eR9MY8u
> 
> Link to subreddit - https://old.reddit.com/r/tesrc


End file.
